


Clash of the Timelines

by DownOnThePharm



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Baby Dwarfers, M/M, Mature Boys from the Dwarf, Timey-wimey smeg, To hell with timelines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-11-28 06:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownOnThePharm/pseuds/DownOnThePharm
Summary: A swirly thing of a space-time anomaly dumps the young Boys from the Dwarf nearly three decades into their own future.  Will there be confusion, chaos, and shenanigans?  Would you expect anything less?





	1. Cat

“Wibbley-wobbley swirly thing alert!”

“Smeg - it’s comin’ right for us!”

“Hold on, sirs!”

“...Mummy!”

When the disturbance that had engulfed them in the Drive Room of _Red Dwarf_ ceased, the Dwarfers found themselves sprawled in an oddly familiar corridor that nevertheless seemed, well, wrong somehow. Was it a bit too wide? Painted the incorrect shade of (ocean? military?) gray? Too long? None of them could quite put their finger on the problem.

__

Looking around cautiously, Lister whispered, “It looks like the _Dwarf,_ but how? Cat, man, what do you smell?” 

“Us, Bud.”

“No - I mean besides us. This doesn’t feel like a derelict. I think somebody’s livin’ here. What do you smell?”

“I’m telling you, Bud,” Cat insisted. “I only smell us. You, me, Novelty Condom Head, and Goalpost Head.”

“How the smeg can that be?” Lister eyed Cat skeptically.

Cat bristled indignantly, snapping, “Hey! This nose never lies! If I say I only smell us, I mean I only smell us, Monkey Boy!”

“Smegging hell...”

“Shut up, both of you!”, hissed Rimmer. “Listen! Footsteps! Someone’s coming!” They frantically searched their immediate surroundings for a suitable hiding space, but had to settle on cramming themselves into a small alcove next to a lift door.

Lister wryly noted to himself that Rimmer was so terrified that he wasn’t even objecting to having his projection breached by Kryten’s elbow. _Cowardly smegger,_ he thought. _That stupid green uniform of his should have a yellow streak. He’s smegging made of light - of all of us, he’s the safest._ He wished he had a bazookoid, or a cricket bat, or even a hefty spanner. _Good thing I know me way around a brawl._

The Dwarfers huddled silently together, shrinking back against the wall as the footfalls came closer. 

They cringed as the unknown being drew even with their hideaway and turned slowly to face them. 

They stared in bewilderment as he looked Cat up and down with a critical eye, then spoke. 

__“Hey, I’m looking nice!”_ _

__The new Cat nodded in approval and strode off down the corridor as the puzzled stowaways watched him, utterly confused. A few yards away, he halted in mid-strut, saying, “Wait a second. We don’t have a mirror there, and that yellow- and black-striped suit is at least twenty-five years out of season!” He spun on one elegant Cuban heel and glared at the intruders, clearly annoyed._ _

__Lister asked tentatively, “Cat...?”__

____

____

__The other Cat slowly and warily approached them, sniffing the air inquiringly. “You’re us,” he finally stated flatly._ _

__Cat happily chirruped, “That’s what I said, Bud!”_ _

__“Shut it, Junior,” the other Cat snapped, curling his lip to display long, fully mature fangs. The Dwarfers could now see that he was older than their own Cat, although no less lithe and graceful. “All of you, come with me,” he ordered, and stalked off down the corridor, grumbling, “Why does this stupid timey-wimey crap always happen to us? Why can’t we just be left alone?”_ _

__The Dwarfers looked at one another, shrugged, and followed him._ _


	2. Kryten

Kryten was busying himself washing the glassware in the Science Room when Cat stormed in, the crew’s younger selves in tow. As the mech stared at the newcomers in open-mouthed astonishment, Cat growled, “Look what I just found wandering around up on C-deck. Guess what they are. Go on, guess! You, you, you, and you, keep your mouths shut and let him guess!”

“What? On C-deck? Who are they? Are they polymorphs?”

“Nope.”

“Psirens?”

“No.”

“Pleasure GELFs?”

“Mine, maybe, as he’s looking fine. The ones that look like you guys, though? Hell, no.” Lister opened his mouth to protest, but promptly thought better of it as the older Cat fixed him with a baleful glare. 

Impatient with Cat’s odd little game, but knowing from long experience that it was best to humor the felinoid if one wanted any information, Kryten rolled his eyes and guessed, “Alternates from another dimension?”

“Nope. Worse, Bud.”

With a long-suffering sigh, the mech asked, “Do I really want to know, sir?”

“No, but I’m gonna tell you anyway. They’re us.”

Perplexed, Kryten replied, “Us? What do you mean, us?”

“I mean that they’re us from our own timeline. You, me, and the monkeys. Their scents check out.” 

Kryten put one hand over his eyes and rubbed them in exasperation. “You’re telling me that our past selves have somehow been flung forward into our time?” As Cat nodded, Kryten continued, “Why does this nonsense always happen to us? All I want is to clean and garden and watch ‘Androids,’ but, no. There’s always some idiotic crisis or other. I suppose Mr. Lister and Mr. Rimmer don’t know yet?”

“Not yet. Last I knew, they were locked in their quarters being gross. I came and found you instead, as I do not need to see that.”

“Gross? Are you certain?”

“Bud, I’m a cat. I heard them.” 

“Revolting,” Kryten grumbled. “They have absolutely no self-control.”

Lister and Rimmer exchanged baffled looks. Spotting the movement, the older Cat glanced over at them for a moment, then turned back to his Kryten and, smirking, remarked, “At least they couldn’t be disgusting back then, not with Alphabet Head’s being soft-light. Maybe we could trade.” 

“No, I’m afraid that wouldn’t work out well for us, sir. Much as it appalls me to admit it, I prefer their fiddling with one another’s innie and outie bits to their arguments. We’re much better off now that they’re... together.” Kryten swallowed hard as he spoke, willing away the vague queasiness he felt whenever he thought of such matters. Hearing his earlier self squeak in disbelief and shock, he shot the other Kryten a sympathetic look, saying, “Yes, your interpretation is accurate. We’ll speak later, in private.” He turned away as his alternate tried unsuccessfully to stifle a sob, announcing with false cheer, “Let’s contact our Mr. Lister and Mr. Rimmer, shall we?” 

The Science Room’s communication system hissed and crackled to life as the channel to the sleeping quarters opened, displaying a video feed of what seemed at first to be an empty suite. Knowing better, Kryten and Cat readied themselves for what they’d be hearing momentarily. 

“Oh, Rimmer!”

“Listy, yes... mmm... oh, God, Dave...”

“Arn... please...”

Behind them, Cat and Kryten heard three horrified gasps and the dull *thunk* of a lightbee dropping to the floor.


	3. Rimmer and Lister

Rimmer and Lister were lying naked and entwined in Rimmer’s bunk, thoroughly enjoying an afternoon’s interlude. As they reached a particularly crucial moment in the proceedings, the primary comm link flickered on. Engrossed as they were in one another, neither of them noticed the video intrusion at first. Then...

“Sirs, this is Kryten. Are you there? Sirs? Ah, that’s right - the bing-bong machine is malfunctioning. Let me try this again. Bing-bong! This is Kryten - can you hear me?”

Startled, Rimmer squawked like a violated chicken and rolled over onto his stomach, sending Lister sliding off of him and tumbling to the floor with a pained “OOF.” 

As he flailed for the duvet, trying to untangle it enough to cover himself, Rimmer barked, “Kryten, you accursed bog-bot, what in the hell do you want? Can’t you see we’re occupied? I swear, I’d like to...” Hearing Lister groan, Rimmer broke off and turned his attention to his partner, who was trying to haul himself up off the floor. “Listy, are you all right? Anything hurt?”

“Just me pride and me bruised arse, no thanks to Kryten,” Lister replied as he crawled back into the bunk. “What the smeg, man? What can’t wait?” Tugging enough of the duvet away from Rimmer to cover the important bits, Lister grabbed a nearby audio/video remote, switched on the bunk’s monitor, and gaped at the sight of the little assemblage in the Science Room. “What the smegging hell? Who are they?” 

“Kryten, what the frelling smeg is going on? Polymorphs!” His normally suppressed Ace subroutines firing up, Rimmer leapt naked out of bed, snatched up a pulse rifle seemingly from nowhere, and, with a menacing roar, pounded down the corridor, hell-bent on neutralizing the threat. 

Lister, Kryten, Cat, and the younger Dwarfers all stared at one another in stunned silence. Gathering his wits after a moment, Lister sighed, “Oh, this should go well. I’d better go after him. Lock down the Science Room, Krytes. I’ll try to catch him before he gets there and kills them.” 

As the comm link went dark, Kryten activated the blast doors, then sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. Cat perched on the seat beside him and fixed the younger crew with a predatory glare. No one spoke for several minutes. Finally, almost timidly, Lister gestured at Rimmer’s light bee lying on the floor, and asked, “Mind if I switch him back on?”

Looking up, Kryten replied, “What? No, no - go right ahead, sir.” As Lister reactivated the hologram, the older mech muttered, “I hope these doors hold out against Mr. Rimmer.”

Wide-eyed, Rimmer stammered, “What - what about Mr. Rimmer?”

Face back in his hands, Kryten answered, “Your older self is on his way here, armed, dangerous, and naked. We’re assuming the blast doors will slow him down long enough for Mr. Lister to stop him, but we can’t be certain that will indeed be the case, as he punched through the last set when he thought Mr. Lister was dying.”

“Punched through the doors? What...?”

“Yes, sir. He went through them as though they were made of balsa wood. He’s quite deadly when he’s in berserker mode.”

Rimmer’s light bee hit the floor again.


	4. Ace - Well, Sort Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos and destruction - typical.

As the occupants of the Science Room piled whatever they could get their hands on against them, the blast doors began to shake in their frame from the violent pummeling that had started up in the corridor. The powerful blows punctuated a continual stream of guttural curses and roars from the assailant.

“Smeg. He’s here, sirs,” Kryten sighed resignedly. 

Lister gulped, “That nutter out there is really Rimmer? This Rimmer?” He nudged the dormant light bee with his foot. 

“Yes, sir. It is, and he’s thoroughly smegged off.”

“At what, man? Can we stop him?” 

The metal of the doors began to warp under the insistent hammering.

“He thinks you’re some sort of shape-shifting GELFs, and he’s protecting our Mr. Lister, sir. I’m afraid no one can stop him other than your older self.”

The left-hand door began to bulge inward alarmingly as the rampaging hologram in the corridor kicked it.

“Smegging hell!”

“Indeed, sir.”

A gap appeared between the blast doors. The pounding stopped, and a pair of hands reached through the opening, grasped the edges of the doors, and began to prise them apart. 

Lister snatched up his Rimmer’s light bee and scuttled under a workbench, Cat close behind. Their Kryten stood in front of them, preparing to defend his crew with his life if necessary.

The blast doors buckled as Rimmer forced them open. He wedged his head through the widest section of the gap, snarling, “WHERE THE BLOODY BUGGERING HELL ARE THEY?”

The older Cat and Kryten calmly approached him as the younger Dwarfers gaped at them in disbelief.

“Mr. Rimmer, sir, please. You’re damaging the doors.”

“Goalpost Head, chill!”

Rimmer wrenched the left-hand door free from its frame and slammed it against the wall. He stomped through the gap, shoving Kryten and Cat aside. Brandishing his rifle, the hologram scanned the room with the air of a trained warrior. On spotting his huddled quarry, he locked on target and brought the rifle to bear. 

“DIE!” 

Lister burst through the ruined door and half-stumbled, half-skidded to Rimmer’s side, yelling, “Rimmer, NO!” 

Rimmer ignored him. 

Lister grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, bellowing, “Arnold! Arn! Arnie! ACE!” He threw himself backwards heavily, pulling the hologram with him just as Rimmer squeezed off a shot, and throwing off his aim. The shot went wild, destroying a large monitor and punching a hole through the wall behind it.

“Thank God that’s not going to puncture the hull,” Kryten muttered. “That could really ruin your day.”

“Non-bud, you’d better be glad you missed me,” Cat snapped. “This is a new suit!”

Enraged, Rimmer spun to confront Lister, growling, “Why did you stop me, Dave? I’m protecting you from the polymorph scum, old love!”

Lister gripped the hologram’s arms and gazed into his eyes. “Ace, we’re safe,” he soothed. “Give me Arn back, man.” As Rimmer blinked in confusion, Lister softly repeated, “We’re safe. Let Arn come out, Ace. It’s OK.”

Shaking his head as though to clear it, Rimmer opened his mouth as though to protest, hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Listy? What’s going on? Where are we?”

Lister raised a hand to caress Rimmer’s cheek gently. “We’re in the Science Room, babe. You had an Ace episode.

“An Ace... why? With my smegging rifle? What...?” Rimmer glanced down at himself. “Why the smeg am I naked?”

“We were in bed when Krytes called us and told us we have, um, visitors. You threw a wobbly.”

“Visitors? What? Where? Here?”

“Under that bench, sir,” Kryten interjected, gesturing towards the young Dwarfers, who were staring at their older selves in bewilderment.

“Cheers, mate,” the young Lister said, with a tiny wave of the hand clutching the light bee.

“They’re us, Alphabet Head,” Cat offered. “You’re there, too, but you freaked out and went into your bee when you started pounding on the doors.” 

“Run that by me again? You’re making no sense, you idiotic moggy.”

“Put some clothes on first, non-bud! Nobody wants to see that hanging out, except maybe Monkey Boy, and I do not need that image in my head!” 

“What? Oh, right - naked.” Rimmer fiddled with his wrist module until his usual blue uniform shimmered into existence. His autocratic manner restored with his clothing, he glared at the cowering intruders. “You lot, come out of there right now, and reboot whatever moron is in that bee.” As the younger Dwarfers crawled out of their refuge, joined by their newly rematerialized hologram, Rimmer barked, “All of you, head to the sleeping quarters. Whatever idiocy is going on here, I am not about to deal with it amidst this mess, let alone stone cold sober. Now, move!”

Everyone moved.


End file.
